Scatterbrained Broad
by SamanthaMae
Summary: Sylvia wants to get married. Dallas wants to go to sleep. [oneshot]


A/N: This fic has no purpose. I don't know...I just wrote it 'cause I'm bored. I'd love feedback, though : )

_**Scatterbrained Broad**_

_Spiders._

_Spiders were running through his hair, disappearing, then running through again. It felt irritating , itchy, and kind of nerve-racking. But he couldn't open his eyes; something wouldn't let him. He began to feel anxious for something to happen._

_Something…_

_Maybe he was dreaming._

_Yes! That had to be it. There was no other explanation. Why would spiders want to crawl through his hair, anyway? It hadn't been washed in such a long time. Then what was this--_

"Dallas…"

His eyes opened slowly. Dallas cursed under his breath as he looked up at Sylvia Reynolds. She had been stroking his hair. That's where that spider dream came from…

He groaned and rolled over, his back facing her. Hangovers weren't something she should be playing with. How could she possible wake up after seven beers with her full, red lips curved in a smile? Was she even human?

"Dally, wake up," she whined. "I gotta go soon."

"Then go." he simply replied.

That didn't seem to go through to her. "But I'm lonely."

Dallas rolled over to face her, putting on an ugly face. She knew he wouldn't be in a good mood that morning. What even went on last night? A few beers, that was for sure. He remembered Shepard bringing some hard liquor and sharing it with him. Maybe that was why he felt so lousy.

They must have borrowed a room for the night. That would explain why he was in one of Buck's bedrooms.

Sylvia, however, laughed. Somehow Dallas couldn't scare her. Sometimes he liked that about her. Sometimes it annoyed the hell out of him.

"Think I should dye my hair?" she asked, sitting up.

"It's all dyed out."

She smirked. It was true. He couldn't remember her natural hair colour. It was always bleach blond--she'd re-dye it every few weeks. He thought it looked fine the way it was….and he was just too tired to protest.

Her face was missing makeup streaks draining down her eyes. She must have washed it earlier. How long had she been awake?

"You were real good last night," She put on a classy smile. "Damn, you can rid 'em horses better than any of those boys."

Now she was sucking up to him? What did she want?

"Yeah," he muttered, feeling his eyes closed. Not for long, anyway.

She stoked his hair again. Normally he'd like it--now he wasn't amused.

"Stop."

And she didn't. He groaned quietly and rolled over again. Even though she was still pretty with no makeup on, he found the wall better to stare at. They didn't need another fight.

He heard a sigh. "Hey, Dallas?"

"What?" He tried to sound as impatient as he could. It seemed to work well.

"Do you…love me?"

" 'Course I do."

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't exactly sure if he _loved _her. Liked her, sure. Thought she was attractive, sure. Loved to have her in bed often, sure. Love? Hmm…not a topic he knew well. But she wanted a different answer.

"Y'know, I was thinking…"

Uh-oh. What kind of crazy things would she say?

"I'm tried." he snapped, hoping maybe _then_ she'd get the hint. Apparently not.

"I mean, I'm eighteen now, and you're seventeen…"

Dammit. He hated it when she mentioned that. She was a year older than him. Big fucking deal.

"…and we've been together for--what--two years?"

"On an' off," he reminded her, still remaining his back to her and eyes tightly shut.

Another sigh. "Yeah, well, I think--"

"I'm _tired_," Dallas repeated. There was no way to shut her up.

She rambled on about how they met. It was like a movie he'd already seen, but someone was saying the entire storyline. They met by Shepard. How could that seem interesting at all?

Then she mentioned something about her eyes lighting up when she first saw him. She was attracted to his blue eyes. Hmm…and why should he care?

There wasn't much else to say other than, "I'm tired."

Her turn to groan. "I gotta point."

"I ain't listenin',"

"We should…" Sylvia was clearly hesitating. "We should get married."

Dallas couldn't help but chuckle. All of his thoughts about her being crazy, every time the boys from the gang would say she's a scatterbrained broad was proved. Married? Was she out of her _mind_? They were dating for two years. Practically one from the break-ups.

"M'tired."

"…I know you don't make much money an' all, but I could get a job. We could put you in more races. Then we could get a place somewhere--North Side, of course--and…"

How long had she been thinking about this?

"Sylvia, I'm tired,"

"Just listen for a sec. I found this small house a few streets away from here, so you can--"

"Jesus Christ!" Dallas sat up and eyed her. "Know what 'tired' means? Huh? Means I wanna _go to sleep_. It means I don't wanna listen to you talk 'bout crazy shit like gettin' married or my goddamn eyes. Get it?"

She started to get angry. "I'm serious."

A heavy feeling fell onto his chest. Suddenly Sylvia was drawing a picture. "Don't tell me you're pregnant…"

"No…"

He sighed with relief, laying back down. "You're really serious, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. I wanna know where this's goin'. I wanna know we're headed somewhere, not just dating."

Well, nothing she just said really made sense. First of all, they were young. Secondly, if they were only dating, Dallas wouldn't just be going with her. She really was clueless.

He decided to draw a picture for her.

"If we was gonna get married, we'd have to stop breakin' up for shit that don't matter. And you'd have to quit makin' so many boyfriends."

He caught her glaring at him. She looked so good when she did that.

"I'm not the only one cheatin' here, y'know. I heard about you and Miss. Little Brunette last weekend."

This wasn't convincing him to have a wedding with her. This was convincing him to slap her teeth out. Broads shouldn't allowed to get mouthy like that…

"Yeah?" He snapped, "Her hair ain't dead."

Dallas had never had an idea what "dead hair" meant, but Sylvia would always complain that she had it. This would probably get her a little angry.

"Wanna know what makes Tim Shepard better looking than you?"

Fuck. He didn't need to hear this again.

"His dark eyes are so mysterious, like ya never know what he's thinking. And he actually _washes_ his hair. Know what that means? Anyway, his--"

"Sylvia?"

"Uh-huh?" she replied, smiling.

"Shut the hell up."

She rolled her eyes. "Calm down. I was kiddin'."

"Funny." he said dryly. "Know what? I'm tired, I don't wanna do this. Get dressed an' get out."

"Oh," She pretended to look hurt. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

Dallas point to the door. "Get out."

She laughed and sat up, grabbing her clothes on the floor. Now he was _really _getting mad.

"And Shepard is such a good kisser. Better than you, really. He--"

"Get the fuck out!" he finally yelled. Christ, she was annoying.

She smiled. Why did she find it so amusing when he wanted to kill her? Was there something _wrong_ with her?

Before she was out the door, she turned around and said softly, "Dallas?"

"What?!"

Sylvia Reynolds walked over to him slowly, planting a kiss on his lips, placing herself on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist, making the scene a bit more interesting. She ran her fingers through his hair, and it was one of those occasions when he liked it.

He found himself wanting her to stay when she pulled away. It was like she was a vacuum, sucking him in. Someone hypnotizing him, making him want more.

Dallas watched her walk away, impressed with her skirt.

"See you tonight?" she asked, opening the door.

"Sure," he muttered, laying down again.


End file.
